


We Are Giants

by Purplesauris



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: GTA AU, Geoff Ramsey/Michael Jones - Freeform, Heists, Implied Sexual Content, Jackvin, M/M, Mild Smut, Murder, Raywood, Side Relationships - Freeform, Stealing, gta v - Freeform, jack Pattillo/Gavin Free, micheoff, pick-pocket!Ray
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 05:23:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3716713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purplesauris/pseuds/Purplesauris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray is a thief. Ray is a liar. Ray is a 21st century Houdini, and no one can tell him otherwise. He can take anything off of anyone without them knowing. That is, until he takes a pistol off of a madman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Are Giants

**Author's Note:**

> LISTEN TO THIS WHILE READING??: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GVqqAxDughw
> 
> So this was originally an idea that I had fleshed out a little bit with my lovely friend Donotjustlive-fly (check her out on here, her writing is great) at like midnight. I ended up deciding to work this into a full fic, and well, you can never get enough GTA or Raywood can you? As always, love the fic? Hate it? Found a spelling or grammatical error? Tell me so at purplesauris.tumblr.com or right in the comments below!

Ray really, really enjoys his job; well, it’s not so much a job as it is a lifestyle, but if someone asks Ray what he does for a living he’d just say he was a magician. It was easier to explain than ‘I’m possibly one of the best pick-pockets in the world and I steal to keep myself alive’. But it stands to reason, if you tell Ray that someone just so happens to carry a lot of cash on them, that cash almost always ends up in Ray’s pocket, one way or another. Whether it’s stolen or earned in a night of easy money making (what can Ray say, he gives great bjs), Ray makes sure he gets the money. He robs everyone and anyone, and hell, he even goes after Joel Heyman, head of the mob syndicate Roosterteeth. Joel was admittedly easy to steal from; a little narcotic in his drink and an offer of taking off to a hotel room and Ray had him eating out of the palm of his hands. Joel passed out before they were even inside the hotel room, so Ray lays him out on the bed, takes his pants off and leaves with the cash. Easy peasy.

What Ray really loves to do, though, is targeting random people on the street. Ray hears from down the line that there’s a guy that’s fucking loaded, and he carries cash on him all the time. Ray knows easy pickings when he sees them, so he strolls down the street in hopes of finding said guy. Tall, broad shoulders, carries himself like any other citizen in Los Santos, but with the eyes of a criminal. Ray’s favorite kind of person to steal from. Ray shoves his hands in his pockets, sunglasses over his eyes as the sun beats on his shoulders, ensuring a nice day in the city. Ray wanders down the street, and he can practically spot the guy from a mile away; strolling easily, wearing a black and blue leather jacket and worn jeans, hair pulled back in a ponytail. Perfect. Ray pulls out his phone, shooting himself a quick reminder to pick up groceries on the way home. Ray trips over the sidewalk, letting out an embarrassingly high noise as he fumbles, hands slipping into pockets, grabbing at a wallet and tucking that in his sleeve. In and out, quick and easy, Ray thinks as he plucks a pistol from the guys belt while calloused hands steady him, Ray looking up into vacant blue eyes and a polite smile.

“Shit man, I didn’t mean to trip and smack into you, sorry about that.” Ray rubs at his cheek, adjusting his glasses from where they’d been knocked askew. _Sell the embarrassed act, Ray, you know how_. Ray shuffles his feet and looks up at the man shyly, listening to what he has to say.

“It’s alright, are you hurt?” _Keep this guy talking, don’t let him have enough time to get suspicious before you’re gone_. Ray shuffles out of the mans way, and he can feel his cheeks getting warm and damn is he a great actor. He should try the big screen some day.

Ray sees the fake concern on the mans face, can see him wavering between leaving Ray here or actually trying to help him, and Ray waves his concern off. Ray smiles sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders a little. “No biggie, just skinned my knee. Thank you for helping me.”

“You’re welcome.” Ray smiles and waves as he heads off, richer and armed with a pistol he doesn’t even really know how to use. Ray disappears into the crowd easily, walks the same direction and pretends he’s just another person heading to work. Ray walks for exactly two blocks with the man he stole from following him before Ray manages to lose him, never looking back. Ray uses the money he stole to pay the two months of rent he owed, but at the last minute decides to keep the pistol as a memento. No harm in it, right? Ray lays low for a couple of weeks, stealing from the occasional douchebag in a suit that gives his ratty jeans and old black beanie a disdainful look. Ray gets a paper slid under his door at two in the morning three days later, the writing messy and almost illegible. ‘You aren’t safe. Watch your back.’ Ray laughs at the note and throws it away. He knows he isn’t safe, he never is.

Ray watches the news every morning, and it’s always the same. Break ins, bank fraud, corrupt politicians, blah blah blah. Ray sits up when he sees ‘BREAKING NEWS’ scroll across the screen and a reporter comes on, hands shaking as they hold the microphone. “This just in, late last night local resident..” Ray tunes out the name, the name isn’t important. What is important are the words carved into the body that Ray can see. The image of the body is fleeting, and he has to pause the TV to get a better look. Ray’s blood runs cold as he reads the large, jagged words. A message of sorts, if you will. ‘Hope you like the pistol.’. Ray’s world drops from around him, and he briefly thinks that he’s just gotten himself some very deep very stinky shit and he might not get out. Ray really thinks he shouldn’t listen to anonymous tips anymore, and he packs his belongings into a backpack and leaves, cashing the deposit in and running with the money. Ray moves into an even crappier apartment on the other side of town, and that lasts three days before he’s sleeping in a motel.

Ray bounces from motel to motel, never staying in the same place for more than a night. The man, whoever he is, whatever he is to the underground world of Los Santos, is relentless. Ray sleeps with the pistol under his pillow at all times and a lockpick in his pocket just in case. Ray hides. Ray steals. He saves up enough money to buy a sniper rifle that was on sale because it was bright pink and he trains. He teaches himself everything there is to know about a sniper rifle; how to assemble it and disassemble it in his sleep, how to breathe to ensure the perfect shot. Call Of Duty can only help Ray so much, but he thinks he does pretty fine. Ray is good at sniping. Spectacular, actually, but it isn’t so he can pick up jobs. It’s insurance, a way to comfort himself that if he wanted to he could take this guy down from hundreds of feet away. He could, but tracking someone who doesn’t want to be found isn’t his forte. Stealing, lying, seducing, disappearing without a trace, that is his forte. Not getting mixed up in gang wars or pissing off an obviously murderous man.

Ray’s next target is a guy with a nice mustache and tattooed hands that’s walking around in a full suit, bow tie and everything. Everything is going well, he’s just about picked the guy clean without him even knowing when tattooed fingers wrap around his wrist as he’s about to take the wallet in the man's pocket and Ray swears. Ray really just wants to go back to the motel he chose for the night because it’s been a horrendous day, but he can’t get out of the man’s hold and it’s really starting to hurt his wrist by this point.

“What do we have here? A boy who needs to be taught that stealing is wrong?” An amused voice says. “Or maybe you’re the pretty one that stole my friend’s gun. Was that you?”

Ray doesn’t know how to respond short of dropping to his knees and hoping a blowie is enough, so he goes for the next best option. “Fuck you man, I gotta eat too.”

“Oh, this one has a mouth.” The mustached man grouses, and Ray really shouldn’t have said that. A guy with curly auburn hair and angelic lips comes strolling up, metal baseball bat braced on one shoulder.

“What’s taking so long, Daddio?” The guy asks, nonchalantly chewing a piece of gum and blowing a bubble.

“Found this guy trying to steal. You think we should let Rye have him?” Angel boy, as Ray has dubbed him by now, shrugs as if to say why not, and Ray finds his hands being tied behind his back, and a blindfold being tied tight over his eyes. Ray struggles a little bit, just to see how serious they are, and Angel boy taps his bat against Ray’s face, blowing a bubble. Ray goes still and lets himself be shoved into the backseat of an old car, a Roosevelt by the feel of the seats. Ray loses track of time as they speed through the streets, feeling the hum of the engine in his bones as they bounce occasionally, jarring Ray. Ray nearly falls asleep in the back after a few hours, grumbling his protest when the door opens and he’s yanked out and set on his feet, someone tugging the blindfold off. Ray looks around to see nothing but dirt and densely pack shrubs that look half dead, and Ray instantly recognizes where they are. Hours away from Los Santos, high in the the hills up north. There’s no way Ray can run from here without a vehicle, so Ray snags the keys when they aren’t paying attention. Ray tucks them away and gripes when he’s shoved forward, stumbling to the front door as Angel boy knocks twice. Ray’s stomach ties itself in knots, and when the door finally opens it drops away altogether. Ray stares into empty eyes and a pleasant smile, and he really wishes he wasn’t here right now.

“Boys! Come on in, you want a beer?” The man says, and they’re all waved inside, Ray behind the owner of the house and in front of Angel boy. He’s pushed down into an armchair in the living room, and Ray is really tired of being shoved. They disappear into the kitchen, chatting amongst themselves, and Ray cannot believe they’d leave him in the living room and expect him to be there when they got back. Getting out of the bindings is easy enough, and really he could have done it any time, but Ray doesn’t dwell on it as he sneaks to the front door. Ray’s hand is on the knob when his collar tightens around his throat and he’s pulled back, a disapproving voice chiding him.

“Guests don’t leave without introductions.” Ray is being dragged by the man he tried to pick-pocket and he isn’t even using two hands. Ray struggles against the grip, to slip out of his jacket and get away, but he hears the click of a gun and he freezes. Getting shot was _not_ in his job description, dammit. Ray curses the heavens above and Hell below, grumbling when he’s deposited in the same arm chair as before. Angel boy has a pistol resting on his thigh, beer in one hand as he talks quietly.

“Thought you didn’t keep alcohol in the house.” The man with the blank eyes shrugs, that same pleasant smile on his face. It’s really starting to creep Ray out.

“You guys are over often enough that I went out and bought some.” Angel boy laughs at that, grinning and taking a drink. Ray flinches when all eyes turn to him, and he really doesn’t want this attention.  “So, he almost got you too?”

The mustached man nods, taking a swig of beer. “Caught him with his hand in my pocket.” the man, Rye, Ray thinks they called him at one point, stands up slowly, and Ray shrinks back in his chair, fingers tapping against the arms.

“I’m willing to bet,” The man starts, easily reaching Ray’s chair in two long strides as he looms over Ray. “that he grabbed a whole lot more than you think.” Ray looks up, wrinkling his nose as he spits at the man, the man merely wiping it away. He chuckles, a dark, ominous sound that has Ray slowly reaching for the butterfly knife he knows is in his pocket. A calloused hand catches his wrist, keeps him still as the other hand slips into his pocket; pulling out the before mentioned weapon. “Play nice.” the man croons, and Ray really wants to do more than just spit in this guys face again. Ray squirms in his chair as a hand wraps around his throat, just enough to make it difficult to breathe, not enough to make him pass out. “I think we should give Geoff his things back, hmm?”

So the mustached man has a name. Ray scowls when a wad of cash, car keys, and a gold ring is pulled from his pockets and dropped onto the coffee table. “Fuck you.” Ray gasps, and he thinks he sees a brief spark of something in those blue eyes.

“My ring!” Geoff stares blankly at the ring on the table, looking at his hand where it should be. He’s quick to slip it back on his finger, fingers curling into a fist. Angel boy is watching everything, slow smile spreading across his face.

“You still have my pistol, don’t you?” The hand around Ray’s neck tightens when Ray flips him the bird. “ _Don’t you?"_

Ray swallows hard, and he really doesn’t know how he managed to fuck up this bad. “Yes.” Ray whispers, flinching when the hand slides from around his neck to rest over his heart.

Ray’s breathing is ragged and that pistol is back to being pointed at him when he grabs the man’s wrist, and he hates how those cold eyes are watching him, that damn smile on his face. “You know,” Geoff drawls, leaning his head against his hand. “I could use someone like you.” Ray doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe as the man steps away and sits back in the armchair near Angel boy. “Not everyday you find a pick-pocket as good as you are. You useful for anything else?” Ray blinks. When did this become an interview?

“I can pick any lock.” Ray says hesitantly, unsure of why he’s being asked this.

“Go on.” Geoff says, and yeah, this is really happening. Ray sits back in his chair, slipping his hands up into his sleeves nervously.

“I can snipe pretty damn well. You need to seduce someone, I’m your man.” Ray says, fidgeting and looking towards his knife. “I blend in with the crowd. I’m a nobody. I get in easy, get out even easier.” Geoff looks mildly interested, and Angel boy is nodding along as if already okaying Ray. The man in the chair across from Ray is watching everything unfold silently. “You need information, I got it. I hear and see everything in this city.”

Geoff downs the rest of his beer before grinning at Ray, leaning forward and extending a hand. “How would you like to be a part of the Fake AH Crew, my friend?”

Ray’s eyes widen in unabashed shock, and his mouth opens and closes a couple times before he finds his voice. “You’re serious?”

“As a shark attack.” Ray looks at the hand still held out to him, and he shrugs.

“Oh what the hell. YOLO, right?” Ray mutters, shaking Geoff’s hand in two quick pumps. Ray quickly undoes the strap of Geoff’s watch, slipping it into his sleeve.

“Great! Let me introduce you to half of the crew. There’s me of course, I’m the boss. Michael here is our gun and explosives man.” Angel boy, now Michael, waves at Ray and tucks his pistol away, still nursing his beer. “And the crazy bastard over there is Ryan. He’s the muscle, pretty much.”

“You should give Geoff his watch back.” Ryan says quietly, Ray pouting and tossing it to a dumbfounded Geoff.

“What the fuck? When did you take that you cocksucker?” Ray laughs, picking his knife back up and slipping it into his pocket.

“When we shook hands, of course. Magic fingers.” Ray holds his hands up and wiggles his fingers, Michael snickering while trying to cover it up. Geoff cracks a smile and shakes his head, standing up.

“Lets go meet the rest of the crew and get you settled in.”

“Wait, I’m going to be _living_ with you guys?” Ray asks, grabbing the keys off the coffee table. Ray walks towards the door, half expecting to be dragged back only to hear the others following. Ray watches as Ryan locks the door and Geoff and Michael climb in the back of the car, Ray slipping into the drivers seat.

“The whole crew lives together. Makes it easier.” Ray frowns as he takes off down the road, looking towards Ryan. Ray jumps when he’s met with the sight of a black skull mask, and the car slows in his brief hesitation. Ray floors it again, looking away from Ryan as his knuckles go white. Yeah, he’s definitely gotten himself into something big. No backing out now, though. “That was a safe house. One of many.”

Part of Ray wants them to spill every single detail about their group so he can make a little cash, but then he remembers; he just joined the crew, that would make all this, what he just somehow survived, worthless. “And he says in a safe house because..”

“It’s quieter.” Ryan says, voice muffled by the mask.

~*~

Ray drops himself at his apartment, Michael clambering into the drivers seat and leaning out the window. “Top floor of that building.” Michael points to probably one of the most expensive buildings in town. “Punch in 636 and it’ll take you straight up.”

Ray nods and heads inside the motel, going to the room he had bought and grabbing his backpack. Ray slings it over his shoulder, gun bag in hand as he hands the key to the room back to the motel owner. Ray doesn’t bother getting the money back for the night he didn’t use, just walks off. He makes his way through the streets, and by the time he walks into the lobby of the apartment building he’s close to 400 dollars richer. Ray does as Michael instructed, and soon he’s on his way up to meet the rest of the people he’s going to be living with. You would think Ray was nervous, and he is a little; Ray’s neck is sore and there are faint marks on his neck, and the thrill of almost being murdered is still singing through him, but he’s committed. Ray shoves his hands in his pockets as the elevator door opens, and Ray doesn’t look up as he steps out, fingers curling around the knife in his pocket when he hears the click of a gun. Ray lifts his head slowly, and he meets two distrustful gazes evenly, fighting to keep emotion off of his face.

“What, no welcome party? No confetti?” Ray jokes, face blank as he slowly takes a step back. “And here I thought I’d have a warm welcome.”

“This is about as warm as you’re gonna get, buddy.” Geoff says as he walks in, cup in hand as he waves the two men down. “Ray, meet Gavin, our hacker and information gathering brit.” Gavin stows his gun and waves, smiling goofily. “Next, meet Jack, our vehicle guy. You need a ride, he can get you it.” The bearded man, Jack, also puts his gun away, looking at Ray incredulously.

“This is the pick-pocket? He’s a kid!” Ray snorts at that, setting his stuff down and pulling out a wad of cash.

“Tell me how much this is.” Jack looks confused for a moment, looking carefully before answering.

“I’m not sure, 200?” Ray shakes his head, small smile on his face.

“Off by about two hundred. You know how I made this money?” Ray walks forward with deliberate, slow steps, fingers curling around the money. “I took it. Right from people who think like you do. ‘He’s just a kid’ you say. No way he could possibly be of any use to you and your big bad gang. Wrong. I don’t see you stealing money unnoticed, without a fuss, and disappearing off the map. From what I’ve heard you’re big explosions and multiple casualties.” Ray sneers, shooting Geoff a look when he steps forward to intervene. “Lets get one thing straight right now. You can call me a kid, remark about how young I am, but the minute you undermine my abilities because of my age you are going to find yourself very poor, and very homeless real quick.”

Jack’s eyes narrow, but then he’s smiling and he sticks his hand out, Ray shaking his hand firmly. “A mouth, just like Geoff said.”

“It’s one of my best qualities. Can’t give bj’s without it.” Ray remarks, Jack chuckling as Ray holds his watch up. Jack looks pleasantly surprised, but Ray only gives him the watch back and inclines his head. Jack moves out of the way just in time for Gavin to barrel over, Ray ducking and sliding between Gavin’s legs, head whipping up when Gavin squawks and flails.

“Raaay c’mon!” Gavin whines, pouting and opening his arms. Ray looks at him in bewilderment, and he can hear Michael laughing somewhere behind him.

“He won’t leave you alone until you hug him. Just get it over with.” Ray relaxes when he realizes what is going on, and he steps into Gavin’s arms, Gavin giggling and hugging Ray tight. Ray returns the hug, hands pressed between Gavin’s shoulder blades as Gavin continues giggling.

“You’re good at hugs!” Gavin says once he finally releases Ray, Ray laughing easily and going to grab his bags.

“I’m good at most things that involve my hands or body.” Ray says, winking at Gavin while Gavin mock gasps.

“How _raunchy!_ I hope you don’t kiss your mother with that mouth.” Ray waggles his eyebrows, Gavin snorting with laughter. “What a card! You found a good one Geoff!”

“The best. Now, who wants to help me settle in?” Ray jokes, Geoff rolling his eyes as Gavin waves his hand excitedly.

“Gavin, you have a job you’re supposed to be doing. Jack, do you mind?” Gavin whines in disappointment, lower lip sticking out as he frowns at Geoff. Jack ruffles Gavin’s hair and Gavin relaxes a little, Ray diverting his eyes. Ray hears Gavin snicker softly and gasp, and he presses his lips together, eyes flicking up briefly when he hears footsteps. Ray sees Ryan walking past, just a fleeting glance of his jacket before he’s gone. Gavin’s cheeks are flushed and he looks positively scandalized, grinning like a kid on Christmas.

“I’ll see you later, Ray. Don’t be a stranger!” Gavin practically skips away, Jack’s gaze lingering for a moment too long on Gavin before Ray clears his throat. Jack smiles and waves for Ray to follow him, walking through the apartment slowly, passing the living room where he can just see the kitchen, and down a hallway. Jack stops in front of a door on the right wall, motioning for Ray to go on in.

“All our rooms are relatively spread out, so you have this hall to yourself for the most part. There’s a bathroom across from your room. Feel free to explore a bit, just..”

“Just what?” Ray asks as he throws his backpack down on the bed, looking at Jack standing in the doorway.

“Don’t poke around the room at the end of the hall. That’s Ryan’s room, and while he isn’t here a lot, he doesn’t like people touching his stuff.” Ray snorts and touches his neck, rubbing at the tender skin softly.

“I know.” Ray stands in silence for a while, and Jack looks like he wants to ask something, but he never does. Ray decides to ask his question instead. “So, you and Gavin?”

“That obvious, huh?” Jack sighs, brushing his hair back.

“I’m a people person. But you two are obviously comfortable here, and you don’t have to hide from me. Your business is none of mine, so I’ll try not to pry.”

Jack shrugs, hands in his pockets. “None of us are very discreet.”

“Are you all hooked up or something?”

Jack laughs at that, shaking his head. “No, Geoff doesn’t like to share Michael, and I’m not particularly fond of sharing Gavin. Ryan is just.. Ryan. He doesn’t do relationships, or even friendships. He does comradery.”

“Hmm.”

“Where do you think you’re gonna fall?” Ray stares at his hands, grinning at Jack and winking.

“I’m obviously going to seduce you all.” Jack rolls his eyes, and Ray sighs before he shrugs. “I don’t know. Hopefully not just comrade area, though.”

“Well, best thing to do is come hang out. Gavin already likes you. Mainly because you actually hugged him, but that’s beside the point.”

“Thanks, but I think I need some time to myself for the night. Rough day.” Jack nods in understanding, smiling reassuringly for a minute before leaving Ray to his own devices, closing the door behind him. Ray sits down heavily on the bed, pulling off his beanie and tossing it beside him. Ray stows the cash he took in his bag, tucking it under his bed for safekeeping even though Ray suspects no one goes in a room without knowing whose it is. Ray holds his gun case close to him, fingers running over the unassuming, plain case. Ray tries to be like a case; seen but never noticed, with added protection and the occasional flashy design to attract someone’s eye. It works, for the most part, Ray is left alone and he’s free to steal and pick locks to his hearts content. Ray sets the case under the bed too, sprawling out and closing his eyes. Ray doesn’t remember the last time he slept on sheets that weren’t covered in weird stains or smelled faintly of smoke and piss. The sheets smell like laundry detergent, and Ray thinks he could probably get used to the smell. Ray curls up under the sheets, rubs his neck slowly and falls asleep to thoughts of card tricks and skulls.

Ray wakes up a few hours later, and the apartment is mostly silent. Ray slips his glasses on and pads out of the room, treading silently through the apartment as he takes in everything that’s before him. A huge flatscreen, a decked out kitchen that Ray feels awkward standing in, multiple hallways that all lead to different rooms. Ray suspects that the rooms are supposed to be soundproof, but when Ray hears a muffled moan he quickly moves away from that hallway. Ray is standing in the middle of the living room, just looking around when he spots a sliding glass door. Ray pulls it open slowly, a cool breeze sweeping across his face as he steps outside onto a balcony. Ray marvels at the view; he’s never seen Los Santos from this angle, and Ray can’t help but feel like when he was 12, standing on the rail and leaning over. The ground is so far away, and the people on the ground look like ants, but Ray doesn’t care. He enjoys the feeling of the wind whipping through his hair and tugging at his clothes, soft smile on his face once he steps down. Ray moves a potted plant that was sitting in the corner of the balcony and tucks himself there, still able to feel the wind but not as exposed. Ray breathes easy, staring up at the sky even though he can’t see the stars with the city lights.

Ray hears the glass door slide open and he pulls his legs up against his chest, hiding behind the plant. Ryan steps out onto the balcony, shutting the door quietly before going and leaning on the railing. A cigarette dangles between his lips, and he cups his hand over the end while lighting it. Ryan smokes peacefully, staring out over the city as smoke curls from the end of his cigarette. Ray jumps when Ryan inclines his head towards Ray, studying Ray from the corner of his eye. He holds out the packet of cigarettes and Ray hesitates; it’s been forever since he’d last had one, but he doesn’t necessarily want to start again. Ray opens his mouth to object, but Ryan has already tucked the pack away, instead offering his own cigarette. Ray doesn’t know why sharing a cigarette is better than having his own, but Ray just takes a long drag before handing it back, Ryan laughing softly when Ray blows smoke rings. They pass the cigarette back and forth until it burns to the butt, and then Ryan starts another one, and they pass that one too. Ray moves to sit with his back to the railing near Ryan’s right leg, Ryan never saying a word. Ray finds that the scent of smoke and feeling of nicotine floating through his head is oddly soothing, no matter how bad it is for him.

“When’d you start?” Ryan murmurs, flicking the butt over the railing while slowly letting out a plume of smoke.

“Start what? Stealing? Gathering information? Selling my services? Gotta be specific.”

“All of them. You don’t seem the type.” Ray snorts, picking at the fraying knee of his jeans.

“High school. You could run a whole syndicate as long as you had goods and the right information.” Is all Ray says, and Ryan leaves it at that. Ray can see the sun rising, reflected in the glass in front of him, and he pulls the pistol out of his pocket. Ray stares at it for a moment before Ryan silently reaches down, Ray placing it in his hand. Ryan pockets the gun and ruffles Ray’s hair, Ray combing his fingers through to fix it after huffing. “Can I ask you something?”

“Can I not answer?” Ryan asks in return, Ray nodding. “Go ahead.”

“Were you going to kill me?”

“Yes.” Ryan admits, not seeming sorry at all. Ray can’t blame him; he’d probably do the same thing if someone stole his cash and his gun.

~*~

Ray fits into the group well; that’s what he’s always done. Fit in. He jokes around with Gavin and doesn’t object when Gavin lays across his lap, playing Peggle while Jack is busy. Ray goes out around town with Michael, playing stupid pranks or chilling in the arcade for no reason other than to enjoy the easy friendship they have. Ray will sit with Jack while he works on the cars, talking about stuff he’s stolen and handing Jack tools when he asks for them. Ray quickly learns that Jack won’t let anyone else work on the cars they use for heists, and Ray calls him a genius because Ray had never thought about the possibility of an ignition bomb. Ray likes hanging out with Jack a lot, because despite their misgivings in the beginning, Jack is really easy to talk to, and Ray could sit and listen for hours to the stories that Jack tells. Ray will drive Geoff around town, Geoff drinking beer while they talk about upcoming heists or what Ray does for fun when he disappears from the apartment. Ray tells Geoff about how he drugged and robbed Joel, and Geoff laughs long and hard at that, telling Ray that Joel is an old rival. Ray will order whiskey and wine from all over the world, haggling and blackmailing until he gets exactly what he wants. Geoff calls him the booze faerie because Ray always has something new for Geoff to try.

But out of all of the crew, Ray enjoys the simple, early mornings when he sits on the balcony, Ryan leaning over the railing next to Ray as they pass a cigarette back and forth. It isn’t often that Ray actually smokes with Ryan, but he sits out on the balcony every night after the crew goes to sleep. Ryan isn’t always in the apartment, but some way or another he’ll show up, and the two will sit in silence for hours. Ray finds himself oddly comfortable with the way Ryan will absently play with his hair or playfully blow smoke over his head. Ray keeps his hands tucked in his pockets, doesn’t want to see the dirt underneath his nails after a job of taking a guy into a back alleyway. Doesn’t want anyone to see him, see his hands and what they can do. Ray’s hands are the most important thing to him, the key to his survival, but he hates them when they touch a strangers bare skin; when he caresses someone and feels nothing at all. Ray doesn’t want to feel nothing. Ray wants to feel passion and lust and the tingle that used to dance in his fingers after he successfully pick-pocketed someone when he was 17.

Ray stays back during one of the latest heists, staring at his hands while sitting on the balcony. They didn’t need Ray to snipe for this one, didn’t need him to lure someone away, distract them while the rest of the crew steals all their cash. Ray is kind of glad for the break from shooting so many people. Ray doesn’t really like having to kill people, but he doesn’t feel guilty when he has to. Crooked cops or people that go after his crew, those are the easiest to shoot. Civilians, people that he walks past on the street, they’re harder, but manageable. Ray stands up when he hears a door slam somewhere from within the apartment, and Ray flinches when the glass door is shoved open, screeching along the metal track it slides on.

Ray takes a step back when hands cup his cheeks, and Ryan is kissing him; when was this a thing, when did Ryan ever feel something other than ‘comradery’ for him? Ryan’s mouth is hot, insistent on Ray’s, and Ryan reeks of gunpowder and ash but Ray just tangles his fingers in Ryan’s hair, Ryan’s hands moving to grip Ray’s sides, fingers clutching at Ray’s shirt. Ray doesn’t understand why this is happening, the heist had gone without a hitch to his knowledge, but he vaguely pieces together the fact that this isn’t just because of the heist. Ray feels the railing digging into his lower back and the wind is blowing Ryan’s hair all over the place, but Ryan ignores it, ignores everything except Ray’s lips and how his breath tastes and the hands in his hair. Ray feels a fire light in his belly and every part of him feels electrified; the places that Ryan’s fingers press into, when Ryan pulls him closer, slots their bodies together so that they’re chest to chest. Ray gasps when he grips Ryan’s hair, feels sparks shooting through his fingertips and Ray wants to cry because he can feel again.

“I can feel.” Ray breathes, staring wide eyed at Ryan when Ryan jolts back, eyes opening as he realizes what he was doing, what he was going to do. “Ryan I- I can feel again.”

Ray gazes at Ryan, breath hitching when he sees how Ryan is looking at him, raw, unbridled passion and relief, and this is the most worked up Ray has seen Ryan since they met. Ray laughs, he laughs loud and he laughs joyously, and when his stomach cramps from laughing at the insane possibility of this being real, Ray kisses him. Tilts his head and goes on his tiptoes, smiles when Ryan lifts him to sit on the railing, and even though he could plummet to his death he knows Ryan won’t let that happen. Ray feels the stubble on Ryan’s cheek as he rubs his thumb along Ryan’s jaw line, the soft skin below the collar of Ryan’s shirt. Ray pants when Ryan takes a step back, breathing just as hard as Ray as his chest heaves. “Don’t leave me. Please.”

“Rye, I wouldn't _dream_ of it.” Ray murmurs, drawing Ryan back into his embrace. There’s something about Ryan that Ray has never understood. Something that Ray had seen on Ryan’s face and in the way he moved, but was never talked about. Just what had made him the way he was? Did he just fall into the role? Ray wonders this and so much more about Ryan, but he doesn't voice anything. Not yet. Not when Ryan’s lips are on his and he’s burning up for this man.

Ray loses himself in Ryan, in the way he kisses, in the way his hands grip Ray’s waist tight while carrying Ray through the apartment. How Ryan shoulders the door to his room open while sucking a mark on Ray’s neck. Ray touches Ryan wherever he can; trembling as he runs his fingers over Ryan’s bare chest, his shoulders, his back, into his hair. Moans when they move together, Ryan rocking into him while Ray kisses like a man starved of attention, needing Ryan’s touch, needing Ryan’s _everything_. Ryan gives it to him, presses him back into the mattress, fills Ray’s view with nothing _but_ Ryan, stimulates him until Ray can’t imagine anything other than Ryan. Ray knows what to do, how to make Ryan want to keep coming back for more but he abandons everything he’s learned, abandons the thought that maybe Ryan is just using him this once. This is real. As real as anything else in Ray’s life, at least. Ray doesn't think, can’t think, just moves and kisses and moans, and when they have a minute to catch their breath Ray mumbles Ryan’s name.

Ray wakes up to arms around his waist and the distinct feeling of having had an interesting night. He knows exactly who it was with, and part of him is afraid that this wasn’t supposed to happen and it was a post-heist haze, but part of him says that Ryan isn’t like that. Ray isn’t sure what to believe. Ray feels the arms hold him just a little tighter, and lips press soft kisses into the bare skin of his shoulder and neck, and Ray sighs in bliss. Whatever this is, whatever they are, Ray wants it. Doesn’t want to go back to sitting alone in his room while the other think he’s disappeared from the apartment, hiding from the world. Wants to be here, in this bed. In Ryan’s arms. Ryan doesn’t tell him to leave. Ray doesn’t expect him to.

 


End file.
